I’m a millennial who’s never having kids. I don’t take the decision lightly, but there are too many risks

That’s tough to write, even as a 31-year-old who’s never wanted kids, without tacking on a “right now” at the end. It feels final and is a huge decision, but I have a clear direction for my life now.

My choice comes with something to mourn — as there would be if I made the opposite choice and had to leave my childless life behind. I still reserve the right to change my mind, even though I know I won’t.

I don’t take the decision of whether to bring a new life into this world lightly. I respect everyone’s decisions for their own families. Here’s why I’ve made mine — through many open conversations and the support of my partner.

Genetics and healthcare

Genetic testing has advanced a lot since I was a kid in the ’90s, and that knowledge is power for me.

I didn’t fully understand that I was on the autism spectrum until I was 29 years old because women’s symptoms look different, and it wasn’t recognized widely when I was growing up. I wasn’t raised to think neurodiversity was a superpower — I had a religious upbringing and was homeschooled.

I’m still learning what being on the spectrum means for me since it’s so different for everyone. When I’m going to the doctor and trying to make healthy decisions, it’s hard to feel ready to go through a pregnancy for nine months, willingly sign up for more doctor visits, and then take care of a whole new person indefinitely.

I’m also nearly blind in one eye, with astigmatism in the other. Again, it’s genetic and shared by many of my relatives. The optometrist told me that with today’s medicine, this could be fixed with surgery before the age of 5, in case I wanted children someday (putting a toddler through an expensive surgery is the modern option, I suppose).

There’s more that I deal with, of course, and it makes me think I don’t want to put someone else who I love through every medical challenge that I’ve had.

Having a genetic disorder during pregnancy is like a mixed surprise bag. The unknown in this scenario — with uncertain, expensive, and unreliable American healthcare — is too risky.

One of the biggest sources of carbon emissions is humans. From a Mother Earth point of view, it would be more environmentally friendly to take care of the already living humans than to pop out new ones.

The logical side of my brain says it might be worth considering adoption if the urge to raise someone strikes. Until recently, I thought I might consider it, but I’m leaning away from it now.

A hospital birth is very pricey. Based on what I’ve heard from my peers who are parents and who have health insurance, a hospital birth can run you between $3,000 and $6,000 or more after insurance — or up to $15,000 without insurance, on average, in Oregon. You could add a midwife to your care team to advocate for you, but they can also be expensive.

My partner and I have health insurance through our employers, but we’ve been between coverage before. Plus, there can be up to a three-month delay for health insurance to kick in when you start a new job.

Now factor in prenatal care, postnatal care, diapers, and — even worse, I’m told — formula, as well as day care and education. Then factor in food and clothes for at least 18 years. The US average for all that is a quarter million for one child in average health.

That’s before college. That’s with no nanny to help with day care and no trust fund. That’s without factoring in personal time doing everything necessary to be a parent. The cost is just too great.

The maternal mortality rate in the US is 32.9 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births, and it’s even higher for women of color (69.9 per 100,000). That’s not to mention the long list of possible and probable side effects of pregnancy, many permanent or long term.

And let’s talk about parental leave. The US protects up to 12 weeks of unpaid, job-protected leave a year for certain employees. We could be doing better. Iceland provides both parents with six months of paid leave, so it’s possible with the right priorities.

The US government doesn’t pay for parental benefits. US corporations don’t pay for them. US healthcare doesn’t pay for them. Women are expected to foot the bill and take the leave regardless.

Why should I? More importantly, how could I afford it if I wanted to?

I already know what those around me would say if I asked.

“That’s selfish,” they’ll tell me — but not my brothers.